Author, Author
by Ariane DeVere
Summary: Sexytimes for John and Sherlock suddenly don't feel quite right.  John finds out the startling reason why.


**Warnings**: Men shagging

**Author, ****Author**

Sherlock thrust harder into John as his pace began to increase. John's hips rose to meet the downthrusts and he gasped and dug his fingernails into Sherlock's shoulders who groaned appreciatively and buried his face in John's neck, the sweat on his forehead feeling delicious against John's already damp skin. As Sherlock drove into him again John wrapped his legs tighter around Sherlock's back and tilted his hips further upwards. The sensation of their sweat-covered bodies sliding together began the familiar buzz starting low in John's stomach and he knew that his orgasm was approaching. He began to lose coherent thought as all his senses dived down his body and he concentrated on nothing but the rising feeling of _this __is__... __this __is__... __oh, __dear __God, __this __is__...__..._

_...__This __Is __Not __Right._

He forced himself to ignore the rising tingle in his stomach and looked up towards the dark ceiling.

"Um, author?"

A high-pitched gasp came from the direction of the ceiling. Instantly Sherlock froze above him – on a down thrust, which was partly really rather nice and partly more than a little uncomfortable. John tried to push him off but Sherlock was now motionless and not reacting to anything at all. John put his hands onto Sherlock's waist and tried to shove him off to one side but – considering how skinny he was – he was heavier than John had anticipated and he couldn't shift him. He looked up to the ceiling again.

"Author?"

A strangled voice came from the ceiling. "Uh, hello?"

"So I'm right," he said. "This _is_ some sort of weird fiction, isn't it?"

"Um, how could you know that?" the voice asked, full of panic.

"Well, let's see," he said a little sarcastically. "I have no memory of how I got here, and I know I haven't been drinking; and he's not the sort to have drugged me and brought me up here against my will."

He wriggled a little, which provoked another pleasurable tingle from his groin which he tried to ignore. The movement, however, made him realise something else.

"There are satin sheets on my bed. I've never had satin sheets in my life!"

He turned his head and looked at the bed more closely.

"I've normally got a bog-standard double bed, not this monstrous king sized affair!"

He tilted his chin up and noticed something else.

"And the headboard with the railings and the handcuffs attached is ridiculous!"

He wriggled again, trying to ease his aching legs which were starting to feel strained after being spread so wide for so long, and continued.

"Not to mention that I've never had the slightest gay urge in my life before. So unless I've died and this is a really weird afterlife, or this is some sort of bizarre alternate universe where ... I dunno, Anderson is _nice_ or something, I can't think of any other valid reason why I'm in this situation!"

"Anderson is nice in _some_ people's FF fic," the voice said promptly. Then it gasped and mumbled, "Forget I said that."

"Why?"

"You're not supposed to know about fan fiction."

"Why not?"

"Look, just forget about it, OK?"

He frowned, trying to concentrate. "All right," he said, and returned to the original subject. "Why am I even _with_ Sherlock? Why am I suddenly supposed to be having gay inclinations when I've never even _looked_ at a man in that way before? There are plenty of _women_ who I might be interested in, like Sarah and ... um, never mind who else ... but why _Sherlock_ all of a sudden?"

He paused, feeling increasingly uncomfortable at Sherlock's weight on top of him, and raised his voice angrily. "I would never go with _him_ even if he was the last person on Earth!"

"There's no such thing as an impossible pairing," the voice retorted. "I mean, have you _visited_ the kink memes lately?"

"The what?" he asked.

"Oh," the voice said nervously. "Never mind."

He sighed. "Another thing I'm not supposed to know about?"

"Mmm," the voice replied vaguely, then continued hurriedly. "Look, do you _really_ not want to be with him?"

"Of _course_ I don't!" he said indignantly. "I'm not interested in him; I've never looked at him twice; and oh, by the way, I'M NOT GAY! Can't you just get him out of here?"

"Well, I suppose I _could_," said the voice thoughtfully. Then it turned a little tetchy. "I spent a lot of time on this, you know! It's my first attempt at a pr0n story and now you've ruined it!"

"Oh, excuse _me_!" John said sarcastically. "You decide that I've got to go gay and shag my flatmate and I'm supposed to be sympathetic to you?"

The voice grumbled incoherently for a moment. "All right," it eventually conceded. "Give me a minute."

John heard the unmistakable sound of a cigarette lighter, and a second later the author drew in a sharp breath and then blew it out again. The faint smell of cigarette smoke drifted down from the ceiling. Moments later he heard fingers typing on a keyboard, and then suddenly the weight above him was gone and he was alone on the bed. Instantly he rolled onto his side, groaning as he pressed his legs together to try to relieve the ache in his muscles. As they began to ease, he looked around and found that the bed was back to its normal size, the sheets were plain white cotton again, the normal solid headboard was back in place and the handcuffs had gone. He sighed with relief, then a thought struck him.

"Hey!" he called out. "He won't _remember_ any of this, will he?"

The voice didn't reply, and the smell of cigarettes was gone.

John lay there for over an hour, mulling over the weird experience. It was more than a little worrying that apparently someone was influencing his life in this way; but even more disturbing was the fact that he couldn't forget the memory of having had sex with Sherlock. Despite his assertions that he would never have even _considered_ sleeping with him, or _any_ man for that matter, he couldn't shake off the thought of how Sherlock had felt on top of him and – more importantly – inside him. He'd felt so ... right. John had always felt rather uncomfortable at even the thought of having gay sex, but right now all he could feel was a sense of loss that they hadn't finished what they'd started, and an increasingly undeniable need to know whether Sherlock really _did_ feel that good.

Hardly believing that he was doing this, he got out of bed, put his pyjamas on and walked quietly downstairs. There was no sign of his flatmate in the living room or the kitchen but his coat was still hanging up behind the door, so he probably hadn't gone out. Pulling in a nervous breath, John padded silently towards Sherlock's bedroom and found that the door was closed, a sure indication that Sherlock was inside. John stood and stared wide-eyed at the door for a long time, trying to convince himself to turn around and forget the whole thing. _I__'__m __not __gay!_ he kept telling himself silently. _This __is __a __stupid __idea! __Just __GO __BACK __TO __BED!_

_You__'__re __right_, he answered himself. _I__'__m __not __gay, __I __never __will__ be __gay, __I__'__m __not __interested, __I__'__m __going __back __to __bed, __this __is __stupid __I __really __shouldn__'__t __even __be __here __I __should __turn __around __right __now __it__'__s __the __most __ridiculous __idea __I__'__ve __ever __had __oh __bloody __hell._

And he lifted his hand and knocked on the bedroom door.

* * *

><p>Somewhere out in the real world, the author took another drag on her cigarette and put her fingers back onto the keyboard, her eyes glazed and uncomprehending. Sitting comfortably at her feet, the plotbunny grinned evilly and let out a self-satisfied snigger.<p>

* * *

><p><em><span>Author<span>'s Note: __I __don__'__t __actually __smoke __at __present __and __haven__'__t __for __the __last __two __years __but __when __I __considered __writing__ "__...the __author __sucked __on __another __Fox__'__s __Glacier __Fruit__...__" * __it __somehow __didn__'__t __have __the __right __ring __to __it. __;-)_

_* [other sweets are available]_


End file.
